After the last rites of Vardaan were finished, the sun had already gone down behind the hills. The village people still stood near the burning ground, talking in low voices. The Thakur family had only three living members now—Shekhar, the head of the house, his elder son Rishi, and Gauri, the young widow of the younger son.

Gauri walked back to the big Thakur house with her head covered. Her white sari was simple. She had not cried much in front of others. Inside she felt empty and scared. Shekhar and Rishi walked a few steps ahead of her. Rishi’s face was hard. He had never liked the village customs that treated widows like public property.